


Bar Exam (Kinky Ways #19: Spreader Bars)

by flinchflower, nubianamy



Series: Donutverse 50 Kinky Ways [15]
Category: Glee
Genre: Anal Play, Cock Rings, Discipline, Donutverse, Flogging, Law School, M/M, Spreader Bars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-15
Updated: 2012-12-15
Packaged: 2017-11-21 05:17:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/593868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flinchflower/pseuds/flinchflower, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nubianamy/pseuds/nubianamy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Davis thinks he's done studying for the bar exam, but Carl has a different opinion.  Carl/Davis backstory from the Donutverse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bar Exam (Kinky Ways #19: Spreader Bars)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to flinchflower for cowriting another Carl/Davis backstory with me. It's been a good distraction while I work on my latest Puckurt. This story is set in the mid-90s, while Carl and Davis are happily partnered and Davis is finishing up law school. Yes, the subject matter for this particular KW is a terrible pun, and I'm not a bit sorry. 
> 
> Warnings for... well, all kinds of discipline. Enjoy! 
> 
> -amy and flinchflower

 

Carl's tread was heavy as he entered the room, and the door slammed behind him. Davis winced, but he didn't look up, keeping his eyes on the television and sipping his drink.

"Shh," he called, waving a hand for silence. "Marla's about to propose to Andy!"

Carl's jaw dropped, taking in the scene. He recognized the soap opera on the television set; enough of the girls he'd dated in the Army had watched it. But  _Davis_  watching it? There was an array of dirty dishes on the coffee table, and he looked around the apartment critically, seeing other chores undone. And was that - a  _sock? -_  hanging from the top of the lampshade next to the chair where Carl usually sat?

"You have  _got_  to be kidding me," he said flatly. "What the hell are you doing?"

"It's a momentous occasion," Davis insisted. "Fans have been waiting for months for this scene. I read about it in TV Guide."

"And you're a fan," Carl bit off.

"Shelby watched it." He shrugged, and sipped his drink again. Was that a little umbrella? Carl would have ground his teeth together, but he knew better.

"And you've been on that couch all day, by the looks of it," he said, nodding at the coffee table. "Where the hell are your law books and the study guide?"

He didn't even look guilty. "They're on the kitchen table. I stopped after lunch. Really, Carl, it's going to be  _fine._  I've been studying hard, and I'm more prepared than anybody I know."

Carl examined his watch, and stepped into the kitchen table, looking at the neatly stacked pile of books, and one open notebook, with the study guide in front of it. He knew damn well what it looked like when Davis was studying, and this was  _not_  it.

"Get the hell up off of that couch, Davis." His mind was going pretty fast at this point, fueled by the adrenaline of his frustrated anger.

"Just let me finish this -"

Carl strode over to the couch, where he grabbed Davis' bicep and hauled him into a standing position.

"Hey!" Davis protested. "I was in the middle of something."

"Yeah, you  _should_  be in the middle of something," Carl told him, as disgusted with himself as he was Davis. "And right now you're going to be in the middle of a corner, while I figure out what I'm going to do with you. Obviously I haven't been giving you what you need."

Davis glared at him, sulking as he faced the corner. Carl snapped off the television to Davis' squawk of protest, but he paid him no mind. He put his hands on Davis' shoulders, breathing with him, but Davis was rigid and furious, not listening to Carl's body's cues.

"Relax," he murmured, putting some pressure on his shoulders. Davis shrugged them off angrily.

"Get your damn hands off me."

Rather than acquiesce, Carl chose to give Davis a series of hard swats.  _He hasn't been spanked in quite a while, and he'll be sensitive_. "Stay put, right there. I'll be back in five minutes." He schooled his voice to be quiet, something that he'd gotten very good at lately without losing the tone that demanded immediate obedience.

"This is absolutely unfair," Davis complained, crossing his arms and placing them appropriately on his head. "I want one little break from studying and you go all fucking Lieutenant Bossy Pants on me."

Carl thought about it, mentally totalling the number of times he'd seen Davis sloughing off on studying lately, waltzing around with a glass of wine, sleeping in on lazy mornings, and an odd sensation came over him. The mention of his rank was what did it. Davis was a pain in the ass at his best, and a devious brat at his worst.

He mentally reviewed his tools. There was one that Davis hadn't experienced just yet, and he thought personally that the usual sort of spanking he gave the younger man wasn't going to do anything other than have Davis shedding crocodile tears and making empty promises. He needed to step it up a notch.

Carl reached around and yanked Davis' sweatpants down, noting that there was no underwear to bother with, and landed another series of rapid and hard swats. "Watch your mouth, and stay right there."

Now Davis' responses were quicker, and there was no talking back, though Carl could still see the same stubborn expression on his face. At least he was paying attention  _and_  standing still. "Yes, sir," he added belatedly.

Carl strode off into the bedroom, contemplating which location would be best for what he had in mind, even as he gathered the cuffs -  _all_  the cuffs - which fit Davis perfectly, and easily selected out a riding crop, a good size lexan paddle, a tawse, a familiar tube of cream, and two of the spreader bars, which he'd managed to keep hidden up until this point.

Since he wanted aftercare to be easy, he'd keep this in the playroom, and so with that he prepped the bondage table that he preferred to use. He'd clip Davis' wrist cuffs to each side, and prevent the boy from protecting himself first thing. The tools all went on a handy shelf on the underside of the table, where it was easy enough to hide them with a drape. That done, he collected the wrist cuffs and collar, taking them with him to the living room. Davis was still in position, though by his posture and expression, he was still full of contrariness.

"Turn around," Carl murmured, with the collar in his hands. "Come on, gorgeous, let me take over now. You've been working hard. Now it's my turn."

Davis opened his mouth to protest, but he just let out a breath, and closed his eyes, tipping his chin back to accept the collar. Carl felt his adam's apple bob as he swallowed, and traced the strong muscles of his neck.

"Lovely." Carl kissed Davis on the cheek, then gave his bottom a swat. "Let me have your wrists, now. Words, please?"

"Alford, to slow down," Davis responded promptly, and Carl snorted with amusement at the legal joke. "And Jesse to stop."

_Naturally._  Carl sighed inwardly, imagining the hideous guilt it would prompt inside himself to hear his own name used as a safeword. Not that Davis was actually using  _Carl's_  name; rather, it was his son's, Davis and Shelby's, the baby who was now being raised by Shelby's sister and her husband. But it sounded like the name he'd used for most of his life, and that was bad enough for Carl. But no, he'd asked, and he would let Davis stand by his safewords - not that Davis ever used them anyway.

Carl buckled on the wrist cuffs, checking to ensure safe circulation, and clipped the leash to Davi's collar, leading him off to the playroom with a sharp tug to the lead. Carl shook his head, deciding to forgo the lecture as he unbuttoned Davis' shirt, pulling that and his t-shirt off.

Davis looked surprised to be laid down on his back, and Carl smiled down at him, stroking an idle finger along Davis' side, and down his leg, to buckle on the first ankle cuff.

"Hold still," he suggested, "and it'll be much better for you." Davis shifted uncomfortably for a few seconds, but at Carl's warning hand on his thigh, he calmed down for a moment. Carl smiled. "I know you can be such a good boy."

It took a little effort to say that without laughing, but Carl managed it. Davis was the  _worst_ good boy Carl knew - which included himself at 27, which wasn't an easy feat. He moved around, buckling the cuffs in satisfying order, taking time between each cuff to trail his hands, his fingertips along Davis' sculpted body. He loved the shivering. Davis looked good in the three sets of cuffs: wrist, ankle, and thigh.

Davis made delicious whimpering noises as Carl snapped on a tight cockring, making it clear that the evening's work was not in the least for Davis' pleasure. That was apparently his breaking point, for Davis squirmed and put a hand down to stroke himself - which wouldn't do, not at all. Carl gently slapped the back of each of Davis' hands.

"God, Carl," he moaned, "you know how this turns me on. You can't leave me like this."

"I know you're not making good choices now, honey. You need to relax, and trust me to give you what you need." Carl brought them up to what would be a comfortable resting point, attaching each cuff to a tiedown point on the table, restricting Davis' movements.

Davis glanced at his hands, one then the other, and then looked with some confusion at Carl. "I thought you were spanking me," he said suspiciously.

"I am," came the serene answer. He contemplated Davis' prone form, reflecting to himself that they needed a waist belt, something they didn't have -  _or perhaps Davis might enjoy a tightly laced leather corset,_  he thought idly to himself.

Making his way to the end of the table, he brought the first spreader bar up, clipping it into the right thigh cuff. A quick slap to the inside of each thigh got Davis to spread his legs, and a second set of slaps had Davis straining the limits of his flexibility, which was quite excellent. The grunts and whines were very appealing.  _Not to mention that particular spreader bar is just the right length,_  he mused. Davis would be able to close his thighs about three or four inches once it was clipped to the other side, so it wouldn't strain muscles unnecessarily.

"There we are," he said silkily, pulling on the bar, forcing Davis' knees up, until Davis' feet were flat on the table top. "And here," he continued, flicking Davis' feet further apart, and then clipping in the second longer bar. "I'll just let you get used to that for a moment, hmm?"

Davis squirmed in the restraints. "What do you -  _god -_  intend to do with me like  _this?"_

Carl smiled, his eyes gleaming, a dangerous sort of smile crossing his face. "Give you the spanking that you worked so hard to earn."

He moaned. "Like  _this?_  On - on my back?"

"I think that it's often educational for naughty little boys to be spanked in this position, don't you think?" With that, he linked the two bars together, to keep Davis' knees bent, and pushed the bars back to Davis' broad chest, exposing the entirety of the finely muscled ass, the cheeks parted a good way. It was quick work to bring a set of tie downs up to keep Davis in position, and he began to slap at the pristine white flesh of his ass, quickly and sharply with his hand.

"I - can't," Davis protested. Carl paused.

"You have a word," he suggested. "Do you want me to stop? Or are you begging for something else? Speak up, little boy."

"Please... I want you, inside me." It did sound an awful lot like begging, and it went straight to Carl's cock, but he wasn't about to interrupt his plan for that.

"I think I can give you what you need." He bent over and kissed Davis' forehead lovingly, before going back to his bag of tools. The lube, absolutely, and the slenderest of his flanged ass toys. He coated it liberally with lube - they could be boiled, should he play with anyone else, but honestly, it had been years since Carl had - and stretched Davis with two patient fingers.

He knew just how to tease, the right points to apply pressure, and the right time to twist his fingers just so, scissoring them apart. The increased whimpering was sweetness in and of itself, and he was knuckle deep inside of Davis, trying not to smirk as he plunged a sudden third finger in, giving Davis the quick stretch and light burn that he know very well drove him to distraction.

Carl worked his fingers until Davis was gasping and begging, and then finally picked up the cold glass, slicking it thoroughly, and sent it plunging into the fluttering opening, which was stretched wide. This toy was longer than ones they normally used, and a little wider, and he stepped back, one hand lightly pressing against the flat of the flange, holding it inside of Davis to observe the reaction. Davis was doing his damndest to get the toy to hit that perfect angle inside of him, while still managing to stay reasonably still.

"Oh god," Davis whispered. "Oh god, I need..."

"You need a spanking." Carl stepped back, contemplating whether he wanted to strap the toy down, and discarding the idea. He picked up the strap, running the smooth, worn leather through his hand, and he sent it singing through the air to leave a beautiful welt across both cheeks. The mark penetrated the skin between Davis' cheeks, further along his thighs than it would if he'd been face down, and he cried out. "Shhh... easy now, my boy. I'm just getting started."

He kept it up until he'd worked up a light sweat, and Davis was moaning uncontrollably between blows of the strap. The particular marking pattern was lovely, the strap marks overlapping perfectly, and he paused to appreciate the artistry of it. He knew Davis would like the look, once he had recovered enough.

Carl needed a drink at this point, though, and he needed to ensure that Davis was hydrated as well. He laid the strap aside, and picked up the latex gloves, opening the thick white tube once they were on. Carl squirted a generous amount of capsaicin gel onto his hand, and then smoothed it quickly onto Davis' marked posterior, making it appear slightly shiny. He was careful not to encroach upon the sensitive skin between the cheeks with the gel. He left the gloves in the trash, and the tube within reach.

Bottled water was always stocked on the lowest shelf beneath the table, and he fetched one quickly, uncapping it and giving Davis a few drinks of water. The oddest expression was beginning to form on Davis' face, and Carl knew the capsaicin gel was beginning to make itself felt, on the freshly strapped surface. He leaned back, trying not to let the smug smile overtake him as he took a long drink of water.

"Feel that?" he purred, watching Davis' eyes roll back into his head. "That burn's going to stick around for a while. You'd better work on your focus."

He walked leisurely over to the dining room table where Davis' notes sat in a neat stack, leafing through them to find his summaries. He teased out the stacks of note cards from the classes he remembered Davis swearing about the most, beginning with Constitutional Law, Real and Intellectual Property, Civil Procedure and Torts. He knew enough about Probate & Estate from losing his grandparents, to throw a number of questions in there as well, and that had happened while he was in the Army, too, so Davis hadn't been aware of that tangle.

Davis, meanwhile was starting to breathe erratically, and little groans were emerging from his mouth at odd intervals. Carl brushed the sweat off his brow, smiling gently at him.

"Are you ready to do a little review?" he murmured.

Davis' dilated eyes struggled to focus, flicking over to the cards Carl held in his hands. "W-what... oh, god... Carl, I can't think like this..."

"You think it's going to be any better when you're in the middle of a complicated case? Just consider this an opportunity to prove you can work under pressure." He stroked an idle hand over the heated skin of his inner thigh, watching the muscles jerk and twitch as his cock contracted. Carl knew there was a good chance the cock ring wasn't going to be enough to keep Davis from reaching orgasm, not with a barrage of sensation like this.

And so the questioning began. Carl kept himself prowling around the table, a thin, heavy strap in hand, which he employed gleefully and generously every time Davis provided an incorrect answer.

"So tell me, Davis. There's a federal judge and a local leader of an LGBT group who are involved in an assault and battery case - and it was provoked by negligence on the part of a local university at a panel given during a graduate class. Who is liable to whom, and for what?"

"You can't even  _answer_  a question like that," Davis all but wailed.

"Oh but you can, honey. That's all tort law. Want to give it a shot?"

"No," Davis protested sulkily. "I want to come."

Carl refrained from snorting, and picked up the riding quirt from the foot of the table, swinging it with full force to collide with Davis' striped backside.

Davis howled, and Carl bathed in the sound, the feeling of satisfaction. Once Davis had quieted, he resumed the questioning.

"How do you know to even  _ask_  these questions?" Davis moaned at one point.

"I was right there with you every step of the way while you were studying for your JD. Wouldn't it be a shame if I picked up more law than you did?" He paused only to give him another sip of water when it seemed Davis' perspiration had dried up his mouth, and kissed him, watching his lower lip trembling. "Ready for another one?"

TWO WEEKS LATER

Davis stared at the long line. He kicked himself for not leaving the house sooner, and his buttocks clenched despite himself. He'd grown accustomed to tolerating sitting on a spanked bottom over the years, but he hadn't been able to sit comfortably, without a sense of lingering horror, for days after that session. The memories were still fresh in his mind...

_Carl rubbed in another round of the capsaicin ointment, and the next fall of the strap broke Davis' skin, driving the capsaicin into the tiny cut left by the leather. Carl stopped immediately, as he didn't approve of bloodplay; that was always a sign that a strapping was over. But before Carl could do a thing about it, the sensation of the capsaicin in the open cut overwhelmed his senses. Davis threw his head back, screaming through the ball gag and the heavy fabric that Carl had wound over top of that, his untouched cock pulsing out a massive climax, despite the tight cock ring. The orgasm had seemed to go on forever, and he'd been hyper-aware of Carl's presence near him. Carl had told him afterwards, chuckling, that all he could really responsibly do at that point was to watch Davis come, as he'd just been in awe that Davis could even manage it with a cock ring that tight._

Davis shook himself, knowing that he needed to focus. He ran over some of the complex practice scenarios in his head. The line was moving slowly, though, and listening to some of the recent graduates babbling idly occupied his thoughts. At least until one boy leaned over to another and said conversationally, "Man, I'm so tired of sitting and studying until my ass goes numb. Won't miss that at all." Davis found his cheeks heating up - top and bottom sets, both.

That really only evoked the feeling of sitting on a stool facing the corner on the occasions when he'd tried to deny that he needed to study. And the fact that two daysafter that spanking, his thigh muscle was still twinging whenever he tried to contract it. Added to the fact that he couldn't sit down without due care (and process, his mind added inconveniently). Every time he sat, he felt the hideous burn of the capsaicin. It only improved his focus on the studies at hand, because even as much as he liked the feeling, he couldn't imagine getting another spanking on top of it - and he knew Carl was _watching._

He shook himself again, noting that there were only six people remaining in front of him, and made himself relax. He pulled open his wallet - and stopped dead in his tracks.

There was a thin strap tucked into his wallet. At the touch of the leather on his fingers, the memories of that entire session came crashing back.

And then he was in the room, and they were handing him a booklet, and it was happening, and Davis... engaged.

The slam of the door expressed Davis' headache quite adequately, except for the fact that the loud sound just made it hurt worse.

Carl emerged from his bedroom, an eyebrow raised, neatly dressed in a way that said to Davis that Carl had been reading journals and studying.

"And?"

" _You_ ," Davis said, nearly halfheartedly. " _A strap._  In my  _wallet._  On the day of the  _bar exam_?"

"Did it help you focus better?" Carl inquired calmly.

His lip twitched. "I -  _yes._  You bastard."

"Leave my mother out of it. You deserved it."

"Carl-" Davis groaned...

Carl stood, approaching him with satisfaction. "And once your results come in... hmmm. Let's say I'll give you five with the deerhide flogger, for each point you earn on the exam..."

Davis sank to the couch, wincing even at the pressure from the soft cushion, but he couldn't help but smile. "Is that supposed to be a punishment or a reward?"

Carl leaned over and kissed him gently, smiling back. "What do you think?"


End file.
